Clingy Canadian, Sticking Around for 15 Years
by MapleTeaMaddie
Summary: Young Matthew spends his days writing poems for his unriquited love Francis Bonnefoy, but fate ins't always kind to those who dare to fall in love Semi-Song Meme to the orginal Vocaliod song Clingy Boy, Sticking Around for 15 Years. Very Franada
1. 15 years

**Okay its maddie here... Don't be mad at me if you don't like it, if trying two new things at once. Writing a sad fanfic and a song fanfic in one. The song of coarse is Clingy boy, sticking around for 15 years by Yv2 (Vocaliod). When I first heard this song I burst into tears. And after a little bit of thinking, my strange little brain said "Hey this would make a amazing Fan fic!" So I blindly started writing~ Hopefully you  
enjoy. And if you do then Review! Sil vous plait~~~ I need incouragement to write the final chapter...**

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_"These poems are written about my love for you, I've been sending them for 15 years straight. I've been hoping one day you'll write back, but there's no reply. There's no reply."_

~Chapter One~

It was late August, Matthew was writing his daily poem. Three weeks ago he had started writing poems to his crush, Francis Bonnefoy. He had decided that he was going to write a poem to him every day, because he loved Francis and he couldn't think of any other way to express it.

_"How shall I compare thee?_

_To the grand-red maple trees,_

_Fall is upon us but fear not._

_Unlike the summer daisies my love will not rot._

_I love you now, I loved you then,_

_If I were reincarnated I'd love you again_

_My love I hope we never part,_

_Because of the clutch you hold upon my heart."_

He finished typing, saved to his computer, and printed. It had become common practice to both save and print. The printed copy was put into a shoebox and the saved was to be emailed later.

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After two months Matthew had a second shoebox full of poems. He had been writing like crazy, since it was his senior year he had little to know school work to do. So his spent his school days writing.

It was currently second hour. "Mathieu!" Called out a friend of his. He turned to see a very cheerful Marie behind him. He was a little thrown off by her accent; she had a French accent, like Francis. Which wasn't really surprising, considering that they grew up like brother and sister.

"What are you doing?" She asked leaning over his shoulder, her eyes focusing at the piece of paper on his desk. Following her gaze, he looked down to his poem. "Oh you were writing. Is this one for Francis?" She asked as she skimmed her eyes over it. He blushed and nodded. She grinned and then said "May I?" He nodded. She picked the paper from the desk and began to read aloud.

_"Under the starry sky, you shine_

_If I could stop time I'd stop at the scene with your hand in mine._

_If I could carry a map to keep myself from getting lost in your eyes,_

_It would be of no help to me."_

She giggled, "He would love that" Matthew blushed and in his normal soft voice he said, "Do you really think so?"

"Oui! He would." She smiled and took her seat beside him. Matthew put the poem away when the teacher finally walked into the room. Mr. Beilschimdt always had a habit of being late.

He stood in front of the class then shouted "Okay, get your damn textbooks open to page 204." It was a wonder he never got fired, talking like that. The class listened to him and opened their textbooks. Matthew didn't really care for history class. He just took it because Francis took it. Even though he never actually talked to him.

Matthew sat three seats from him, until Francis left the school for good. He decided after Francis left that he would write poems and save them, because one day he would finally have the courage to send them to him. What started as an every day thing suddenly became an every time he had free time thing. He quickly filled a shoebox in about a week and then just began putting them in a large cardboard box.

After school Matthew's schedule became an every day thing as well, he would walk Marie home (mostly to see Francis' home), go to the park (he wrote better at the park), then go home and write. He was completely stuck in the pursuit of Francis, which worried his brother Alfred. On long stretches of time when he'd do nothing but write and sulk, he rarely slept and ate. Alfred suggested to him that he see a doctor or therapist but he refused. Matthew felt he didn't need such things, he never did anything reckless. Besides accidentally setting the kitchen on fire he had been somewhat careful with himself.

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**~Time Shift~ (Into the future Slightly)**

The year ticked by at a painfully slow pace, Matthew felt as if he were watching the hands of time tick before his eyes. He kept himself focused on school; he excelled in his language class, which was something that got him looked at by colleges. Never the less he kept writing and writing, someday his poems would reach Francis. He told himself that over and over as the next year drove pass. The third and the fourth flew by just as fast.

Before long he was in college and writing for a magazine in his spare time. He even wrote a few poems for Francis in his work both in school and the magazine.

"Alfred!" Called a voice from behind him. It was Arthur, a friend of his and his brother, who was calling for his brother. Matthew looked around for Alfred, he was nowhere in sight. He sighed and turned around.

"It's me Matthew." He said sighing; Francis wouldn't have gotten his name wrong. He was one of the only people that could easily tell them apart. Arthur finally caught up. He was huffing from having to run.

"What did you…say?"

"Matthew." He pointed to himself. "I am Matthew, not Alfred."

Arthur cursed under his breath then replied "I should have known since you just came from the library… Jeez. Where in bloody hell is he?"

"Do you need him for something?" He nodded. "Well he was in the dorm when I left." He smiled then took off back down the road.

Matthew sighed and continued to work. His hours weren't harsh or anything he just was interested in it… At least not anymore. There had to be something more than just this. Later, while still at work Matthew was going though his old poems, some from high school others from his fresh-man year in college. He acted on a wild thought and decided he was going to publish them. He searched online for a list of publishers and one by one he pitched his poems to them. By the end of the week he was upset and ready to give up, but he was still somewhat determined so he went to the second to last company on the list.

The office was small like the others and decorated almost the same. Matthew had just finished talking to the receptionist at the front desk. She told him that the manager was currently on break and to come back after twelve. He sat down in the lobby with his laptop and waited. Matthew sat there for what felt like hours.

Then a man came through the door followed by a smaller man. "But Ludwig~~" The bigger man looked irritated. Matthew's intuition told him that the bigger man was the manager. He stood and tapped his shoulder.

"Umm… Excuse me..." He squeaked. The man turned and looked at him. "I called earlier today…"

"Yes you did." The man opened a door to the right of them and stepped in. "Please… let's talk." Matthew smiled. This is the first time all week that they didn't just look him over or brush him off. He was actually going to get to pitch his work. During the meeting Matthew did a lot of talking, mostly because Mr. Weilschmidt asked a lot of questions. After the meeting he was strangely tired but really happy. He was officially a poet.

The fifth year went by strangely fast, besides a few missed date-lines and clumsy cluttered mornings he was fairly happy and stable.

In the sixth year Matthew was walking back to an apartment that he now shared with his brother Alfred. Without looking he was struck by a vehicle that had run a stop light and was hospitalized. He had lost his memory, everything: who his brother was, what he did, even his own name. The only thing that clung to his mind with was a mental image of his beloved, Francis Bonnefoy.

Throughout the seventh and fourteenth years, he slowly became paranoid and afraid. He knew from what his brother and his friend had told him daily. His name was Matthew and he wrote poems. But that wasn't enough he began to wonder why this man he had never met before plagued his every thought. Who was he? Why won't he let me sleep?

**Chapter End~ I want the last chapter to be the build up and break down, because if you are familiar with the song the artist has a semi-dramatic pause before they say the final line of the fifteenth year. If you haven't heard the song listen to it! If you don't know Japanese find a version with English subs… You'll understand… Love Maddie**

**P.S. I you guys want me too, I'll add one final peom to the end~**


	2. An almost cure

**Final time~ I hope you enjoyed the beginning of the story thus far. Sorry for any spontaneous sobs or break downs, I take full responsibly for any character or belief death. (His thoughts are in italics~) With lots of love and hope Maddie~**

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**~Year Fifteen~ (Matthieu's POV)**

"Mattie!" Alfred's voice rang out. "Are you okay? You've been really quiet." I looked over at him. _Aren't I always quiet? Or was I always quiet? _

_I guess it is kind of scary, not Alfred but the fact that I didn't know for sure who I was, and what kind of person I was, I was a poet for sure. The man named Alfred and his friend Gilbert told me a lot of different things about myself. But who is to say that they aren't lying? _

I want to know. Who I am…. Was. All I know for sure is that my name is Matthew and that man is supposedly my brother. The vehicle finally stopped at a house.

I looked to the man… ahem.. Alfred for instructions. He looked back to me and smiles. "We're here!"

"We're where." It looked as if he had chosen the suburban neighborhood he could find and stopped.

"Don't you even remember your old house? Come on lets go say hi to mom and dad." He said as he exited the car. Parents? I get out of the car and followed him. He doesn't even knock he just unlocked the door and walked in exclaiming "Mom! Me and Mattie are home." I sat there waiting to hear some kind of reply. Nothing…

After a bit the man that Alfred introduced to me as Arthur came around the corner. "Don't refer to me with such a fobish label." He looked peeved.

"Whatever you say mom." Alfred retorted.

"Mom?"

"That nimpty git likes to refer to me as if I am a woman." The man huffed.

"But you're a college professor…"Alfred placed his hand on my shoulder. "Um…. Excuse me?"

"Artie here is like a dad to us Mattie… Don't you remember trying to remove his brows when we were little or putting his favorite blazer in the neighbors pool?"

"YOU WHAT?" He snapped "Is that why Mrs. Laws tried to accuse me of breaking into her home?" The man … I mean Alfred started to laugh then flicked the Englishman's eyebrows.

"You two… Please..." I interrupted the fighting the best I could. "Please…" The two stopped arguing and looked at me. "I don't like to see you fight…" Alfred stared at me.

"Mattie... Are you… Did you remember something?"

"Umm…er... I don't know I just don't like it you shouldn't fight though." I sighed "Why did you bring me here anyways?"

"I came to show you something. It might help you get your memory back."

"Er… What is it?"

The man…. Er… Alfred pulled me out of the door and back to the annoyingly loud pick-up trunk. We drove to an oddly familiar place. A cemetery. "Why are we here?" He forcibly removed me from the car pulled me to a tombstone. "STOP!" I tried to pull away. He forcibly turned my head towards the stone.

The name read: _Francis Bonnefoy_

"Francis?" The words felt like boulders as they poured from my lips. _Why did my chest start to fill heavy?_ I sank to my knees and stared up at the stone. _Who are you?_ The thought poured through my head and made my mouth dry. I closed my eyes.

_What is this? A memory? It feels so.. real… so warm. _

I opened my eyes. _Where am I?_ The scenery resembled a garden of sorts.

"Are you lost mon petit?" A voice rang out from behind me. I turned my head. A boy was standing there, or maybe he was a high school child. He had the brightest blonde hair, or maybe that was the sunlight playing tricks on my eyes, blue eyes, and a slight pleasant air about. _Wait… petit?_

I realized I was looking up to the figure. "Who are you?"

He smiled, "The freshmen are always so cute~ I am Francis Bonnefoy. But sil vous plait just call me Francis."

I felt my face heating up "Francis…"

Just like waking from a pleasant dream I was suddenly pulled back to reality. "Francis…" I felt tears welling up in my eyes. "Bonnefoy…." All at once the memory started to pour in and like a full glass I started to flow over. The sting in my eyes from the constant flow of tears was becoming un bearable…

"This can't be…"

To Be Continued…

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**Sorry mon chers… I had to stop but I promise I WILL Finish this. Please review~ With lots of life and love Mads~!**


	3. Memories

**Okay when I said final time my brain lied to me. I want to add in an extra chapter. Kinda to explain why Mattie loves Francis so much. The following is a flashback (Memory). Enjoy~**

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"So are you lost?" He said smiling. Matthew nodded. "Do you know what class you have?" Francis stepped walked to Matthew's side. He placed his head on Matthew's shoulder.

"Umm…. Excuse m-me." Matthew stuttered out. "You're kinda of… On my.."

"Oui?" Francis placed his hands on Matthew's hips. Matthew blushed and threw his body forward and away from Francis.

"P-please don't do that!" He shouted, which was barely above a normal talking voice because of Matthew natural quiet tone. Francis grinned. They _were _alone right now. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Matthew I have a question." Matthew looked up at him.

"W-what?"

"Are you a virgin?"

Matthew blushed and stammered back slightly. "What kind of…. Why?" He was extremely flustered and red.

"So you are. Anyways you are heading to English II… hmm. So you're not a freshman? I don't remember seeing you, and believe me I would remember a cute face like that. Are you a transfer?"

"N-no." Francis reached out and took Matthew's schedule. He studied it over.

"These are all sophomore classes." He smiled "I know that because most of these classes, I am in as well." He grinned, "Do you want a guide mon cher?"

"Mon… Cher?"

"Oui It means..."

"I know what it means… But I'm not your..."

"Do you want to be?"

Matthew made a puzzled face. "You have a strange way of going about things."

"It's called being romantic."

Suddenly a voice cut through the air like a knife. "It's called being a frog!"

"Francis! Stay away from Mattie!" Alfred came storming up the small garden path. "I know what you're planning. Bringing him all the way out here like this, you're sick!"

Matthew threw his hands up "Alfred… he was helping me… I got lost."

"Mattie you don't have to cover for him." Francis just started to laugh.

"So Alfred, are you showing him to class?" Alfred snatched Matthew's arm and drug him up another path, Francis followed at a safe distance. Once they were at the classroom, Alfred dropped Matthew off and left.

Matthew looked around the room. Everyone seemed to know everyone else. 'Of course, they are all in the same class… Where do I'

"Sit." Francis was motioning toward a desk beside his. "Sit here… Mattie~" He purred the last word.

'Is he… No he couldn't be hitting on me.' Matthew nodded then walked over to him. He sat in the desk.

A few awkward weeks passed. Matthew found himself developing a crush on the charming French boy. "Francis." He called from down the hall. Francis turned and smiled at him. "Francis… I have something to tell you."

"Oui? What is it Matthieu?"

Matthew fiddled with his fingers. "Umm…." He started to blush. "Umm… Nevermind…" Francis made a confused face.

"What is it Matthieu?"

"Nothing!" He laughed awkwardly ," I was going to say something stupid anyways.. hehe."

"D-d'accord.." Francis said as he joined Marie and walked out of the school. Matthieu sat there and thought, 'I still have tomorrow.' He shrugged and walked home as well.

The next day he waited outside his first period class for Francis. The bell rang, no sigh of the familiarly radiant French boy. The same for second through seventh hour. A whole day had gone by without even the tiniest sign of him… Or Marie.

'Where are you two?' Matthew thought. He walked the long way home so he could stop by Francis and Marie's home. Something seemed odd. He walked to the door and knocked. No reply.

'Maybe… some kind of family vacation.' He told himself. Families to that… Go on vacation. He returned home. "Papa, Alfred! I'm home." He walked into the living room. "Papa?" He looked around the house, eventually stumbling across the Englishman in the kitchen. He was on the phone.

"Yes he just got home. Thank you." He hung up and faced Matthew. "I'm so sorry, lad. Are you feeling okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Your friend he… Oh god.. You don't know do you?"

Matthew raised a brow. "Know what?"

"That lad you've become so chummy with… Francis Bonnefoy… He…" Arthur looked down. "He died yesterday." Matthew felt as if every bone in his body had just collapsed at once. He felt tears welling up in his eyes.

"This can't be…"

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**Yes DUN DUN DUN. Please review!**


	4. The End

**The final chapter…I'm being for real this time. **

As if from a dream I awoke. Sweat beading from my neck. _Where am I? _I looked around. _A room…_

Beep.

_A hospital room._ Alfred was in the room standing beside my bed. "Mattie! You're awake."

"W-what happened? Why am I—"

"You passed out dude, like passed out cold." He said. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Arthur standing on the other side of me.

"Leave him alone Alfred. Are you okay, lad?" My head felt groggy and a slight head ache was starting to set in.

"He…was there."Arthur raised a brow.

"What? Who was there?" I brought my arms up like a self hug. _He was._ Arthur was staring at me with a very concerned look. "Are you okay?"

"Ou—Yes I am."

_(Smile mon cher)_

I snapped my head up and looked around the room. "Francis?" I felt my chest growing heavy once more, followed by a brief warmness. "Alfred" I said in a hushed tone. "Take me to the school, sil vous plait." He looked confused, Arthur stood silently. I stood and steadied myself.

**~Time Break~**

We arrived at the school, "So why did you want to come here?" Alfred asked. Without giving so much as a nod I ran off into the maze of bushes and vinery that was the garden. Everything was just as I remembered it, which was strange. One would think that after fifteen years the scenery would change, not necessarily by much but still a change would be expected. I have stopped running and started aimlessly wondering the familiar garden. I couldn't tell you why if I wanted to. Something just guided me as if I was being pulled or lead to a certain place. A deep déjà vu started sinking in as well.

I rounded a few rose bushes and froze. There in the clearing was the faint figure of a man. "Francis?" _This can't be…._ I ran to him. I felt the sting on tears in my eye, but I didn't care. The closer I got to him the more the warm feeling in my chest grew.

_("Bonjour mon petit")_

His words met my frantic stride as a quickly closed the distance between he and I. I stopped as what seemed like 2ft away. "Francis! I…. I… Je t'aime!" I choked out. _Fifteen years too late._ I tried to him but he quickly faded into a cloud of mist and nothing.

_(Je t'aime Aussi.)_

"Non!" I sat up in bed, tearing welling in my eyes. Francis sat up in bed beside me.

"What is wrong mon cher?" I looked down.

"That… Dream…." He hugged me.

"Ma Cherie. It was just a nightmare." He stroked my hair. "You have to get some sleep mon cher, you have a meeting with monsieur Weilschmidt tomorrow." He pulled me back down and wrapped his arms around me. "Bon nuit."

"Bon nuit….. ummm hey Francis."

"Oui?"

"Je t'aime."

**And so the story ends sorry people. I couldn't end this in tragedy. Francey pants never died to begin with…. It was a very in depth Nightmare. Love Maddie. If you have story requests (Pairing requests) Just pm of write it in a review~ I am searching for story ideas. So if you want to see an crack pairing, or your favorite pairing, or maybe a pairing that needs more love get a story to themselves.**


	5. A Canadian Extra

**~Story Extra~**

**This poem was written for someone that I care highly for. I was originally going to put it in the story but changed my mind. The poems in the story were actually written for my dear Canada (Victoria). So they would have real meaning. Love Maddie**

If your eyes were a sea,

A map would be my key.

If your arms were a forest

Wrapped in them is where I would find rest.

If your voice were the bells that clime inside,

In your melodic grace I would confide.

If you were mine and I was yours,

The struggles of life would be like daily chores.

If our thoughts could set sail,

Mine would fill the Atlantic without fail.

If someday I could hold your hand in mine,

The meaning of warmth you would redefine.


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